


Factual Retention

by icedteainthebag



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-05
Updated: 2009-05-05
Packaged: 2017-10-21 19:10:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/228640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icedteainthebag/pseuds/icedteainthebag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mulder has a dream about a magical turnip. And there’s lots of sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Factual Retention

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for [](http://xf-is-love.livejournal.com/profile)[**xf_is_love**](http://xf-is-love.livejournal.com/) and is dedicated to all of the readers who keep demanding more fanfic from me. Thank you, you inspire me and make me very happy.

Mulder’s having a dream about the south of France and a magical bag of turnips. He’s eaten one of the turnips and is pleased to find that not only is the bag magical, but the turnips are as well. He immediately looks skyward and shoots up in the sky as fast and far as he can, like some sort of humanoid bottle rocket. He wants to fly as high as he can but soon realizes he doesn’t know how to land. This bag of turnips didn’t come with a book of instructions or a 15th century surgeon general’s warning on the potential dangers of carelessly defying the laws of gravity.

“I don’t know how to land,” he mumbles. His body jerks as he hits the ground awake.

“What?” he hears Scully mutter, and he realizes the light pressure he feels is her warm back against his chest. He tightens his arms around her and smiles.

He opens his eyes. The living room is bathed in blue from a movie long ended. She’s wrapped in his arms, her head against his shoulder. He’s always amazed at how comfortably they fit together, her hips settled between his thighs.

“I ate a magic turnip that made me fly,” he says, kissing her hair.

“Huh.” She turns her head to rub her cheek against his shirt, snuggling deeper into his embrace.

He feels the stiffness in his legs as he awakens more fully. He runs his fingers over her back. “Like, really fly, Scully. I shot into the air at about three Gees.”

“Mmmph.” She eases herself onto her stomach, her hips resting against his, and nudges the top of her head under his chin. She slides her hand around his side, snuggling close. He listens to the gurgle of his fish tank and stares at their half-empty popcorn bowl, still slightly lightheaded from sleep and beer.

“But then I realized, the higher I got, the thinner the air became, and I couldn’t breathe,” he continues, circling her back with his fingers. “And the magic turnip, though well-versed in the mechanics of human flight, which for a turnip is extremely impressive, had apparently no knowledge to bestow on the topic of landing.”

He feels her chin poke into his chest. “Mulder.”

He looks down at her heavy-lidded eyes and can’t help but grin. “Yeah?”

“A magic turnip?”

“Yeah, Scully. Tasted like a regular turnip, though. Which I hate, actually. Magic turnips should taste like steak or beef lo mein to truly be coined _magic_.”

She rises, sliding her arms around his neck and pulling herself up so her face is in front of his. She looks into his eyes and tilts her head, the beginnings of a smile on her sleepy face. “Mulder, it’s a fairy tale.”

“Uh huh.” His heartbeat is quickening as her mouth nears his. He can feel her breath on his lips. “No, no, it’s not, I mean, if you believe Jenn. She received a magical bag of turnips from the ifrit.”

Scully parts her lips and moves them closer to his mouth. There’s an electric flow between them, and her eyes display a hint of mischievousness. He opens his mouth a little and feels her fingernails graze over the back of his neck. “The bag,” she says, nuzzling her nose against his. “A magical bag. Not a magical turnip.”

“Okay.” Her lips feather over his and he nearly shivers.

“I think you need to work on your factual retention,” she whispers, kissing the side of his mouth.

“Noted,” he says, feeling himself grow hard against her. She feels it too, and shifts herself against his jeans, making him gasp.

She captures his gasp with her kiss, mouth full on his, and they both breathe in sharply. He pulls her closer, his hands on the small of her back. Her tongue teases his lips and he tries to catch it, unsuccessful until she lets him with a nudge of her mouth.

She starts laughing, low and soft, when he grinds his hips up against her body. She stops kissing him and pulls away, standing up next to the couch. She extends her hand and looks over her shoulder with an arched eyebrow, her skin pale blue in the light of the television.

“Come on,” she says. “I’m going to need some help clearing all that junk off your bed.”

X x x x

Mulder works the quickest when he’s anticipating the next move. His bed is cleared in less than ten seconds and she hopes that there’s nothing that needs to be found first thing in the morning.

“You know, you’re not really a single guy any more,” she says as he pulls her shirt over her head. He tosses it to the corner and his hot mouth hits her neck. She breathes out as his tongue traces her skin. “You should keep your bed clear. Just in case.”

“Mmmm,” he says, and it’s as much of an agreement as she’ll get from him at this point. He takes his shirt off and she runs her hands down his chest. She yanks at the button of his jeans and his zipper, sliding her hand inside his pants. He groans. Using her best analysis, she suffices to say he’s got a serious priapic condition.

He unfastens her bra and his palms are under the fabric as soon as it’s loose. They’re in a little bit of a hurry for no real reason, probably exacerbated by the alcohol, but she doesn’t really care.

“You’re eager,” she breathes, her nipples hardening to the strokes of his fingers.

“You got a problem with that?” he asks, dipping his head to kiss her. She kisses him back hard—he tastes salty and sweet and she sucks on his tongue while she nudges him with her body toward the bed. Height conditions are not conducive to making out standing up, but she really finds this more of an advantage than a disadvantage. It gets them horizontal more quickly, which is never a bad thing.

They shed their pants at the same time and they meet each others’ eyes and laugh. He lies back on the bed and raises his eyebrows and she scans down his body, the muscles of his chest and his cock straining through his boxer briefs sending a flutter off in her abdomen.

She climbs up onto him, straddling his hips, then removes the bra dangling from her shoulders and tosses it to the floor.

“You need a maid,” she says, dipping her head to kiss him.

“Mmmm, I’m not a single guy any more,” he says between frantic kisses. She rubs the fabric of her panties against his cock and they both moan against each others’ mouths. He feels so, so good. “Isn’t that my girlfriend’s job?”

She laughs and bites at his neck playfully. “Mulder, don’t ever call me your girlfriend again.”

He breathes out slowly as her teeth skim the salty skin she finds under his chin. “Aren’t you?”

She presses her mouth against his ear. “I’m more than that and you know it.”

His palm cups her face and brings it back for another kiss, long and lingering.

“I know,” he whispers, nudging his forehead against hers.

X x x x

Mulder’s wedged comfortably with Scully’s thighs over his shoulders and he really couldn’t be a happier man. He looks up over her body, and this is his favorite vantage point—he can see the slight swell of her stomach that she secretly loathes, the curve of her breasts, and her face. Definitely her face. He loves it when she bites her lip and rolls her eyes and turns her head to the side with a moan.

His tongue meets her heat and she grabs his hair as he continues lapping at her, slowly, dutifully. Not that he would call it a duty. It’s really a _benefit_.

“Hey Scully,” he says, tasting her again. She lifts her hips slightly and her mouth opens for a few seconds before she speaks.

“Yeah?”

“I was thinking and um...what was the name of that town in Missouri, anyway?” He slides his tongue over her clit and she shudders with a moan.

“Fuck, I don’t know,” she groans through gritted teeth. Her hips roll against his mouth.

“Hmmm,” he hums against her, tracing her folds with the tip of his tongue. “I think you need to work on your factual retention.”

“Sure,” she breathes. “Fine. Noted. Come _on_.”

He pulls away, resting his cheek against her thigh. “Not until you tell me the name of that city. I mean, it's an important city, right? The FBI only finds pertinent cases in extremely important locales.”

Her eyes are open and she glances at him, her brow furrowed. “Oh, you do _not_ play games like _that_ at times like _this_ , Mulder.”

He grins and kisses her leg, giving her his most expectant look. Her fist tightens in his hair and she groans, frustrated.

“Fuck...Coeur something. Dammit, this is not funny, Mulder—”

“I find the oddest things funny.” He chuckles.

“Oh!” She nearly sits up in the bed. “Creve Coeur. Creve Coeur. ‘Broken heart.’ Which is what you’ll have if you don't continue immediately with your assigned duties. Now.”

“I’m not one to defy the powers that be,” he says, pressing his mouth against her again.

She nearly knocks him over with her legs when she comes—he enjoys the ride and the challenge of keeping his mouth on her body, his tongue twirling over her, his hands on her ass. It’s a bit of a power struggle, and she’s strong, but he’s got sheer size on his side. She cries out with her head tilted up, and cries out harder when her second orgasm hits her.

He grins. He’s a little full of himself, but she doesn’t seem to mind. She looks down at him and yanks on his hair. “Get up here. Now. Inside me. Now,” she commands on a breath. He nearly moans at the tone of her voice.

“Gladly,” he says, crawling up to her side. She pushes his shoulder down so his back hits the bed, then straddles him.

“It’s my turn,” she says, kissing him hard. He shares her taste with her.

X x x x

“It’s my turn,” she tells him, and she knows he doesn’t realize what she means when he kisses her. She feels his cock against her thigh and he cups her ass, pulling her down. She resists, dipping her head to whisper in his ear.

“The number of the storage unit,” she breathes, sliding her tongue on his neck.

“Excuse me?” he says, shifting his hips, trying to get access to her. She rises and looks into his eyes, grinning. She’s having way too much fun with this.

“What was the _number_ of the _unit_ at Jay Gilmore’s storage facility?”

He groans, a long, loooong frustrated groan. She giggles and musters a serious face.

“Factual retention,” she says, patting his chest with one hand. “Come on, Mulder.”

“Are you serious?” He squeezes his eyes shut. His hips are still moving, as if they’re begging her to give in. She won’t. He deserves it. “Twenty. Twenty one.”

“Ice cold.” She runs her fingernails over his nipples.

“Fuck. Okay. 150.”

“Soooo cold,” she murmurs, dipping her head to nibble on his ear. She lowers herself an inch so his cock grazes her for an instant, then backs away again. “But getting closer.”

“200. 300. 400.”

“Hmmmm.” She lowers herself again, lets him slide through her heat. “So close, Mulder. Use those well-honed investigational techniques to narrow it down. Come on.”

“410!”

“Oooh,” she says, grabbing his cock with her hand. She slides her palm down it and he groans contentedly.

“410? That’s it?”

She looks into his eyes, tilting her head with a smile. “Nope. Close, though.”

“411?”

“Wrong way.” She takes her hand away.

“Fuck! 409. 408. 407.”

“Bingo,” she says, grabbing him again and pressing down onto his cock, gasping as he fills her quickly and fully. They moan together as she settles onto him.

“Thank God, Mulder, but you’ve got to start taking those ginkgo biloba supplements I bought you for your birthday,” she breathes. He thrusts into her and she grips his shoulders, their give and take quickly reaching a fairly frantic pace.

“I thought…those were a gag gift,” he breathes, his hands sliding up her back, landing on her breasts. She arches her back, her spine tingling as he teases her nipples.

“They were,” she says breathlessly as she squeezes his cock with her inner muscles. “But apparently you need them.”

“I need this,” he answers, grinding up against her. She giggles and moves faster, meeting his hips in a quick, delicious rhythm.

“You and me both,” she says, biting her lip.

X x x x

He feels himself coming way too quickly, but he’s afraid she’s going to pull another line of questioning so he decides to let himself go.

“Yeah,” he groans, so close, so close.

“Yeah?” she answers, leaning back on his thighs, her hips rolling slowly.

“Scully, yeah,” he moans. She knows what that does to him.

“Me, yeah?” she giggles. She always makes fun of him when he comes. It’s _their thing_ and it actually sets him off even more.

He groans and bucks up against her, gripping her hips tightly. His orgasm flutters from head to toe and she’s rocking on him, a satisfactory hum escaping her lips. She leans over him and he opens his eyes as they kiss slowly, shock waves ebbing through his body.

She pulls away and kisses his lower lip softly. “This doesn’t go in the case notes. Or on the bathroom wall at the Hoover Building.”

“Mmmm, no,” he says. “But I think we’ve got a new, extremely effective, mutually beneficial way of fact checking.”

“You know,” she says, resting her cheek on his chest. “I’ve never met a man in my life who could talk like _that_ a minute after he came.”

“I’m just that good,” he says, running his fingers through her hair.

“Or something.” Her fingers play down his side, up his arm.

He sifts her hair through his fingers and closes his eyes. “Will you stay?”

She takes a moment to answer, then kisses his chest two times before settling back onto it. “Mmmhmm.”

He smiles and kisses the top of her head. “I want to hold you all night.”

He can feel her smile, the twitch of her cheek against his chest.

  



End file.
